


Light The Fire Bright

by papesdontsellthemselves



Series: Greaser AU [4]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Character Death, Kinda, M/M, Multi, STRAP IN FOLKS, Violence, allusions to both the outsiders and bronx tale, this is gonna be a fun time, we out here, with bad tags, yeah - Freeform, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-23 15:05:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18552205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papesdontsellthemselves/pseuds/papesdontsellthemselves
Summary: “Keep ya head down, kid.  Keep outta trouble.”Race had heard these words in some form or another his entire life, yet he always seemed to find trouble.  Or rather, trouble always seemed to find him.One day it was bound to catch up with him.  Well, more than it already had.





	1. Let it Blaze Alright

**Author's Note:**

> welllllcome to the Actual Long Story in this series! I'm pretty excited for this one, so I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> TW: some implied abuse and like, drug mentions. nothing too wild yet

_“Ya gotta tell me when you’re in hot water…”_

Jack’s words echoed through Race’s head as he dialed his home phone number, tapping his foot anxiously while it rang. He spared a glance at Spot, who looked as miserable as he felt. His nose was still bleeding and the area around his left eye was rapidly blackening, despite the ice pack one of the police officers had reluctantly provided him. 

It wasn’t their faults, necessarily. Okay, it was their fault that they’d gone to the bar in the first place, but Race hadn’t bit the first bitter remark and Spot hadn’t thrown the first punch. They’d simply fought back; stood up for themselves. Everything they’d been advised to do since a young age.

“Hello?” 

Race winced at Jack’s obviously tired voice and internally, he wondered how late it’d gotten. It was around 8:00 in the evening when Race had shown up at Spot’s house and at least a few hours had to have passed since then.

“Hey, Jack,” Race failed to keep the uncertainty out of his tone and he could practically picture Jack’s face as he heard his brother groan on the other end of the line.

“Race, so help me god,” Jack sighed, “Why are you callin’ at,” there was a pause, “fuckin’ midnight? Ya got a curfew, ya know. I thought we established- ya know what, no, we’ll deal with that later. What didya do?”

Race bit his lip, stalling for a moment, “I, uh, couldya maybe come pick me and Spot up…” he trailed off.

He heard Jack groan again, “Ya gotta tell me where I needa pick ya up from or else I can’t and I swear ta god if you say the police station.” 

His voice was filled with warning and Race grimaced, not answering.

“Damnit, Race,” Jack swore, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

The line went dead and Race aimlessly placed the phone back on its holster, “Not like I’d be able to, anyway,” he mumbled to himself, turning to join Spot in the waiting room seating area.

“He on his way?” Spot sounded exhausted and Race resisted the urge to reach out and run his thumb over his bruised knuckles. 

“Yeah, ain’t happy ‘bout it, though,” Race answered, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

Spot scoffed, allowing his head to hit the wall behind him as he leaned back, “Wouldn’t expect him ta be.”

Race hummed, “S’bullshit. We didn’t do nothin’ wrong! Why’re we the ones payin’?”

“‘Cause we weren’t even supposed ta be in the bar in the first place,” Spot supplied.

“It’s still stupid,” Race grumbled, slouching down and propping his head on his hand.

They lapsed into silence and Race scanned the waiting room, allowing his mind to wander. They were the only ones there, save for a man sitting in the corner, legs pulled up to his chest. Race stared at him, drinking in his odd appearance. He wasn’t wearing any pants, just an old looking pair of boxers. A ratty tank top hung off his jarringly thin frame, exposing odd looking marks on his arms. 

_Probably a druggie _, Race thought offhandedly.__

__The guy’s bloodshot gaze met Race’s and they held intense eye contact for a moment, before Race blinked and looked the other way, stomach turning. He could still feel the man’s stare boring into his skull and he shifted, leaning his body closer to Spot’s._ _

__Spot looked at him briefly before spotting the guy, clicking his tongue imperceptibly._ _

__“That’s off-puttin’,” he said under his breath._ _

__“I fuckin’ know,” Race mumbled back, “Guess that’s what we get for gettin’ arrested after 10:00 pm.”_ _

__Spot snorted, tearing his eyes away from the guy and twisting around in his seat, hissing in pain as he turned his torso._ _

__Race watched him, wrinkling his nose sympathetically, “how bad did they getcha?”_ _

__Spot shrugged, lowering the ice pack from his eye momentarily to lift up his shirt. They both hissed when a colorful array of bruises could be seen blossoming around his ribcage. Spot bit his tongue, flinching as he poked one of the bruises._ _

__“Hurts like a bitch,” he said, voice slightly strained._ _

__“Maybe don’t poke it then,” Race reached out to pull Spot’s hand away from his chest, “dumbass.”_ _

__Spot scowled at him and lowered his shirt, pressing the ice pack back onto his black eye. The door to the police station opened and both boys turned around to see Jack stroll in, a tired looking Albert in tow._ _

__“Why’d ya bring him?” Race whined, gesturing to his younger brother who frowned at him. Having Albert there when shit went down always managed to make Race feel ten times worse. He could deal with Jack’s anger, but seeing the judgmental look in his younger brother’s eyes killed him._ _

__Jack shot him a glare, not gracing him with an answer as he approached one of the holding officers. Jack’s expression grew from stony to livid as he conversed with the officer. At one point his fiery eyes widened and he looked at Race, jaw setting. Race pursed his lips, trying not to shrink from his older brother’s stare. Then Jack sighed, shaking his head as he followed the officer to the front table, leaning over to sign some papers._ _

__A moment later, he was stalking back to where Race and Spot were still seated, Albert now perched on a chair next to them._ _

__“C’mon, we’re goin’ home now,” he demanded, not stopping to wait for them._ _

__Race and Spot exchanged a look before standing begrudgingly and following Jack out of the station, Albert in tow._ _

__“Spot, do ya needa be walked home? It’s late.” Jack asked, exasperation dripping in his tone. As unwilling as he sounded, there was no way he’d deny Spot an escort if he was wary about going back to the West Side by himself._ _

__Spot froze in his steps, dropping his gaze to the ground, “No, m’okay.”_ _

__“No, he’s not,” Race stepped in, “His ma’s bein’ a jerk again.”_ _

__Jack studied Spot for a moment, softening ever so slightly. He seemed to be having an internal battle, eyebrows scrunching up before he allowed his head to drop, nodding, “Alright, c’mon, you can crash over for the night if ya need.”_ _

__Spot’s head whipped up, “No, I-”_ _

__Jack held up a hand, “Jus’ ‘cause I’m pissed as shit at the both a’ you don’t mean I don’t wantcha ta be safe.”_ _

__Spot looked apprehensive, but with an encouraging nod from Race, he followed them into the East Side. The rest of the walk was spent in tense quietude. Jack pulled ahead, walking briskly back towards the house, leaving Spot, Race, and Albert to keep up._ _

__As soon as they got into the house, Albert crossed to his bedroom, giving Race an unreadable look before shutting the door behind him. Race stared at the place his brother had been, shame pooling in his stomach._ _

__“Both of you in the kitchen. Now.” Jack snapped his fingers, leading the boys into the small kitchen._ _

__Race slumped into one of the chairs by the counter while Spot hovered awkwardly near him. Jack wet a paper towel in the sink, then handed it to Spot, who busied himself in gingerly wiping the blood from his face._ _

__“I don’t wanna hear nothin’ about who started it or what the fight was about or who it was even with,” Jack began, crossing his arms, “and I don’t really wanna know why you two thought it’d be a good idea to sneak into a fuckin’ bar on a Tuesday night, but I now gotta pay a _two hundred fuckin’ dollar fine_ , so I deserve _some_ answers, so start explaining.”__

______Race hurried a glance at Spot, who’s eyes were glued to his feet. He swallowed, realizing that Spot probably wasn’t gonna step up and answer this one. Not that Race expected him to, Jack wasn’t his brother after all, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant._ _ _ _ _ _

______Race cleared his throat, “Well, ya see, Spot’s mother wasn’t bein’ too nice ta him an’ he wasn’t doin’ too hot, so we decided to, uh, take our minds offa things.” It was a shit explanation, mumbled quietly to the ground, but it was the truth._ _ _ _ _ _

______Spot had been off all day, barely acknowledging Race, or anyone else’s existence. Race had pried an explanation out of him until he admitted that mom had yelled at him for dropping a plate the night before, resulting in shards of the broken dish being thrown at him and a few hours of endless fighting. He’d been reluctant to go home and didn’t want to blow of steam the way they usually did, so Race had suggested they sneak some drinks instead, knowing that a little bit of mischief always pulled them out of the dark._ _ _ _ _ _

______Things had quickly gone south, however, when two Socs had spotted them, immediately calling out hurtful jabs to Spot for hanging out with ‘Greaser scum’. It had quickly escalated when one of them came over, sneering shit in a sickeningly sweet voice until Race finally snapped at him, earning a forceful shove to the ground. Spot had tried to fight back, but the bulls were called before any clear winner could be announced._ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath of air before pinching the bridge of his nose, “Race, ya know he’s welcome here anytime if things aren’t good at his place. Ya didn’t hafta go to a fuckin’ bar to compensate.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Race’s shoulders slumped, “I know, but-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No buts, there’s nothin’ ya could possibly come up with to spin this around. You’re grounded. One month.” He held up a finger when Race opened his mouth to argue, “You broke a law and broke curfew, not to mention that fuckin’ fine we have to pay off now, which you know very well we don’t got the money for. One month is generous.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Race hung his head in defeat, mad at himself for being so reckless and mad at the Socs for blowing their plan. They would have been fine if they’d fucking left them alone._ _ _ _ _ _

______“And Spot,” Jack continued, “Obviously I’m in no position ta punish ya and I’m not gonna tell your mother anythin’ ‘cause I don’t got a death wish for you, but seriously. Use your brain next time. I know there’s a common sense filter in there somewhere.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Spot nodded, scuffing the floor with his toe, “M’sorry,” he said, finally looking up, “I’ll help ya pay off the fine. I got the money for it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Race sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as he prepared to protest, but Spot cut him off, “It’s the least I can do.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack nodded his thanks, “I appreciate it. Now, bed. Both of you,” he shooed them off, “Spot, you can take the couch, I’ll getcha some blankets.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Race rose from his chair, dragging his feet as he followed Jack to the hallway, motioning for Spot to join them as well. Jack disappeared into his own bedroom to look for his spare sheets, leaving Spot and Race alone._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m really sorry I got us in this shit,” Race said, utilizing their moment of solitude to press light kisses to Spot’s knuckles and black eye, “I jus’ wanted ta make ya feel better.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Spot shook his head, leaning in to kiss Race, “M’not mad. Beating the shit outta those Socs actually kinda cleared my head in a weird way.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Race huffed a laugh, “You’re welcome then.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Spot rolled his eyes, “Don’t go gettin’ cocky.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Jack returned, a flash of amusement flitting through his eyes when Race and Spot startled, quickly putting more distance between themselves. Wordlessly, he handed Spot a pillow and blanket before turning back to his bedroom._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Go to sleep right now, Antonio,” he called over his shoulder, “don’t give me more reason to be mad.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Geez, goodnight ta you, too,” Race called to Jack’s closed door._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I really am exhausted, though,” Spot admitted, punctuating his statement with a yawn, “We should sleep, s’late.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Race squinted at the clock on the wall, whistling lowly when he saw that it was almost 2:00 am._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Didn’t even realize,” he said, distractedly leaning in to kiss Spot, “Love ya.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Spot smiled, kissing him back, “Love ya, too. Goodnight.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Back in his room, Race peeled off his leather jacket and stripped out of his shoes and jeans. He climbed onto his mattress, biting back a groan when Albert’s loud snores could be heard through the thin walls of their house. He glared at the wall, toying with the prospect of banging on it to shut his brother up, but he didn’t feel like facing him at the moment. The thought turned his stomach too much._ _ _ _ _ _

______He missed the old days when Race had first helped Albert into their little family, giving him his first ounce of shoddy safety he’d ever had. Back in those days, Albert had looked up to him, regarding him as some sort of hero. But ever since shit went down within the new walls he called home, Race’s cracks were shown._ _ _ _ _ _

______Life had already been unfair to the lot of them. Two near death experiences for Race, one for Spot, immense loss in the past for all of them, fear instilled into their hearts. But they’d already seen rock bottom._ _ _ _ _ _

______It couldn’t get any worse. Right?_ _ _ _ _ _


	2. I'm Set Alight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A abnormally normal school morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: past death mention, implied like abuse, very light but it’s present

Sunlight bled through the blinds, creeping into Jack’s bedroom little by little as it neared 7:00. He groaned, annoyed that he’d woken up before his ratty alarm clock could pull him brutally from his sleep. He hated knowing he could have scraped five more minutes of shut-eye, especially given the god awful hour he’d been up until the night before.

Still refusing to move from underneath his covers, he strained his ears for any telltale signs of movement from the three other boys in the house, but was met with silence. He sighed, bracing himself for another long, unpredictable day. 

Because that’s what his life was. Unpredictable. 

It had been unpredictable when a nine year old Race showed up at his door, shaking and covered in soot, barely coherent enough to choke out that his parents hadn’t made it out of the fire and he was alone. It had been unpredictable when a year later, Race brought home a starry eyed redhead who jumped at every loud noise and demanded they take the eight year old in. It had been unpredictable when what had become of their seemingly happy family crumbled after Jack’s mother died of a sudden stroke and his brave father wasted away in front of their eyes, turning instead to cheap alcohol to cure his grief. It had been unpredictable when a bad fight one night led to the door slamming behind the older man, leaving a terrified 20 year old Jack to care for who he now called his brothers on his own.

He’d learned to roll with the punches; take each day one sacred second at a time. If something new arose, he’d take a deep breath and revaluate. It wouldn’t help to lose his head. No one would benefit from that.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes as the blood rushed away from his head. Glancing around his room, he realized how messy it was, but he managed to locate a clean shirt and jeans. He padded out of his bedroom to see Spot groggily sitting up on the couch, baggy eyes staring blankly at the wall.

“Doin’ alright, kid?” Jack asked, knocking on Albert and Race’s bedroom doors to wake them up as he crossed to the living room.

Spot barely moved, still obviously in the throws of sleep, “Mmmhm.”

“S’your school stuff at your place?” Jack questioned nonchalantly, stopping beside the couch and leaning on one of the chairs.

Spot’s eyes widened, “Shit,” he mumbled, finally moving a sluggish hand to pinch his eyes, “Yeah...shit! I didn’t think of that…I can jus’..go a day without,” he fixed Jack with an apologetic look, “Do ya happen to have some paper and a pencil I can borrow for the day?”

“He should,” Jack said, nodding to Race who had just opened his bedroom door and was slinking down the hall towards the bathroom, “Kid’s acquired an odd amount of pencils.”

They both watched in amusement as Race tiredly locked himself in the bathroom, seemingly unaware that he was being talked about.

Jack laughed, shaking his head, before turning his head back towards Spot, “Anyway, ya hungry? I can make ya some toast.”

Spot shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

“Ah, c’mon, it ain’t no problem. Come have a quick bite,” Jack motioned for him to follow him into the kitchen, where he began to prepare toast for the lot of them, “How’s the face feelin’?”

Spot sat himself at the counter, propping his face on his fist, avoiding his black eye, “Sore.”

Jack hummed, spreading some butter on the pieces of toast, “They getcha anywhere else?”

“M’chest a little,” Spot said, casting his eyes down.

Jack frowned, transferring the toast to a plate and motioning for Spot to take one, “How bad?”

Spot shrugged again, “Dunno. Hurts.”

Jack grimaced, leaning his forearms on the counter, “Want some ice? I got some in the icebox.”

Spot shook his head, busying himself in his toast, “No, m’okay.”

Jack studied him for a moment, tearing his gaze away when Race entered the room, still looking half asleep. He wordlessly slumped into the chair next to Spot and reached out for a piece of toast, immediately eating half of it in a single bite. His hair still looked mostly slept on, the mess of curls sticking up impressively. Half of it was damp and it looked like he’d attempted to tame it, but quickly gave up, making him slightly resemble a parakeet. 

Jack scanned his eyes over him, “Is ya brother up?” He asked, resisting the urge to fix his younger brother’s curls himself. He’d learn to care eventually.

Race gave a noncommittal grunt, “Can I have some orange juice?”

 

Jack rolled his eyes, “I ain’t ya waiter. ‘Sides, you’se seventeen. You can get it yourself.”

Race lifted his eyes, giving Jack an impressive glare that he could only describe as ‘teenage attitude’. He dropped his toast, then stood and crossed to the fridge, pulling out the half empty carton of juice and pulling out a glass.

He turned around, looking boredly at Spot, “Ya want some?”

“Yeah, please,” Spot said, tentatively wiping his mouth with a nearby napkin.

Jack scoffed, leaving his brother and Spot to themselves as he exited the kitchen, noting curiously that Albert wasn’t in the bathroom. He furrowed his eyebrows, crossing to the fifteen year old’s room and knocking once before opening the door.

The shades were still drawn, casting a dark shadow around the room. Albert was still heaped on his bed, his red hair being the only thing peeking out from under the covers. Jack softened, creeping further into the room and seating himself on Albert’s bed, reaching out to run a hand through his baby brother’s hair. Worry sparked in his gut when he felt how sweaty he seemed to be.

Albert blinked open his eyes, dazedly looking around the room for a moment before fixating on Jack.

“Feelin’ alright, kid?” Jack asked, softly, bending down to press his lips to Albert’s forehead, concern amplifying when he was met with a burning temperature.

Albert shook his head, sitting up and leaning onto Jack’s lap, curling into his stomach, “No, m’feelin’ shitty.”

“Yeah, ya got a fever,” Jack said, rubbing his hand up and down Albert’s bare back, “Why dontcha stay home for the day? I can have Race pick up whatever you miss.”

Albert nodded, already slipping back into unconsciousness, “Mmyeah, canya?”

“Sure thing,” Jack said, carefully maneuvering his brother back onto his pillows and pressing a soft kiss to his temple, “Rest up, I’ll bringya some toast in a bit, okay?”

“Yeah…” Albert breathed, rolling back over and sinking into his mattress. Jack smiled fondly, watching him sleep peacefully for another moment before quietly slipping out of the room, shutting the door behind him. 

As much as he hated seeing Albert in pain, he needed the sleep. The kid never got a good night’s rest. He’d been doing better for a bit, but ever since the rumble, where he watched his brother drive a knife into his own gut, he’d fallen back on old habits. Nightmares plagued him once more, leading him to either of his brothers’ rooms depending on the kind of reassurance he craved at the moment. 

Jack reentered the living room to see Spot and Race hovering near the front door, quietly conversing with one another. 

Race looked up when Jack entered, raising his eyebrows expectantly, “Where’s Al?”

“He’s gonna take a day,” Jack said, perching himself on the couch, “Ain’t feelin’ too well.”

Race cocked his head, eyes narrowing, “He okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be aight,” Jack waved him off, “Jus’ a little fever. Go ahead and pick up his schoolwork for him, though, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Race said, picking up his backpack and slinging it onto his back. He reached out to open the door, but Jack cleared his throat before he and Spot could fully leave.

“Hang on a sec,” both boys froze, turning back to look at him, “Spot, if ya needa come back here after school, feel free, but I don’t want neither of you goin’ anywhere but school and home. You go straight there and come straight back, ya hear? No side trips.”

Race whined a little, “Sure, Jackie, we won’t go nowhere. Now can we go? We’re gonna be late.”

Jack raised his eyebrows at his brother’s tone, but didn’t regard it outright, “Okay, off ya go. Love you, Racer. Have a good day, Spot.”

“Love you, too, Jack. Bye.” Race said, already walking down the front steps.

Spot cleared his throat, lingering for a moment, “Uh, thanks for everythin’. Have a good day!” Then he, too, was out the door, shutting it loudly behind him.

Jack laughed to himself, watching them venture down the road before standing to grab a glass of water for Albert.

Man, those boys were gonna be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, chiefs  
> i really live for these boys and their brotherhood. hats off to jack kelly for everything he has to deal with  
> mayhaps plot next chap o.O stay tuned  
> tumblr: papesdontsellthemselves  
> feedback is always appreciated


	3. The Ashes of Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> school, swimming, and slip ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: guns, death (this doesn't occur until the end of the chap, but if you wish to skip, stop reading at 'Race turned slowly, immediately looking towards the baseball field)

Race glared at the clock, watching as the second hand moved at a painstakingly slow pace. The loud ticking of the hands blared too loudly in his head, amplifying the urge to slam his face down onto his desk. 

He hated school. The prospect of sitting still at a desk for seven hours while listening to a teacher drone on and on about stuff he couldn’t seem to absorb was stupid. He needed to _move_. When he was younger, he was the kid who wasn’t allowed a chair because all he did was bounce and ‘disrupt class’. He never understood what the big deal was. The other kids never seemed bothered, but the teachers were always on his case, sending him to the hallway to ‘cool off’ until he was ‘ready to join class and behave’. 

It hadn’t really gotten better as he’d grown older, but he’d learned to control it. If he didn’t, the consequences were worse. Rulers brought down hard on his knuckles, trips to the correctional office where he’d have to sit for even longer hours when all he wanted to do was go. 

He was smart. He knew that much. Math made sense and science wasn’t awful. Even reading was okay if he was given enough time to process the content. But the school environment wasn’t designed for kids who needed a little longer. 

The bell rang, jarring Race out of his thoughts. He blinked, taking a moment to tap back into his surroundings before standing slowly from his desk, moving on autopilot to grab his backpack from underneath his chair. He groaned inwardly, silently debating whether or not he could bear the last two periods of the day. Going home wasn’t an option. Jack was back at the house with Albert and he would have his hide if he showed up early. 

He could convince Spot to leave with him, but he doubted the other boy would be down for his antics after the previous night’s events. Their thirst for thrill was similar, but Spot sometimes seemed overwhelmed by Race’s recklessness. 

Race’s shoulders sagged a bit as he shuffled on unwilling legs towards the door.

“Mr. Higgins, could you stay back for one moment please?”

Race froze, willing himself not to roll his eyes as he turned slowly towards the teacher’s desk, “Yes, Mr. Denton?” 

Mr. Denton beckoned him closer, casually intertwining his hands in front of him as Race ambled over to him. 

“You are aware that you’re failing this class, correct?” His tone was gentle, but a certain sternness was etched into his features. 

Race’s blood ran cold. He’d been aware that he wasn’t doing well, but he hadn’t realized he’d been failing.

“Judging by your face, I’m assuming you didn’t,” Denton sighed, “Now, I’m aware that you’ve gone through some...difficulties lately,” he was speaking cautiously, eyes scanning down briefly to Race’s stomach, where he was probably envisioning the stark scar that still remained from the rumble, “So, I don’t want to stress you out too much, but I would like to meet with a parent or guardian. Just to sort things through a little bit.”

Race stayed silent, heart leaping to his throat. Jack was mad enough at him as it was and he didn’t need the added stress of Race’s petty school issues on top of everything else. This was perfect. Just perfect.

“Are you alright, Higgins?” Denton asked tentatively, fixing Race with a careful eye, some semblance of worry hidden in his tone.

The hairs on the back of Race’s neck stood up and he fought impulse to snap. It wasn’t Denton’s concern whether he was alright or not. He could mind his goddamn business.

Instead, Race set his jaw, remaining neutral, “Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Denton leaned back in his seat, “Just let me know when a guardian will be able to chat and we’ll be on track, okay?”

“Mkay,” Race mumbled, eyes drifting to the clock on the wall. He was going to be late to his next class.

Denton must have noticed where he was looking, because he waved a nonchalant hand, “Go on, get to class. Thank you for your time.”

With a nod, Race scurried out of the room, hurrying down the hallway to his math classroom. Dread weighed down on his chest as he tried to figure out how to approach Jack about this. Maybe he’d give it a few days, allow the tension in the house to let up before tackling the new issue. Besides, there was no way in hell Jack would be able to find adequate time for a meeting with Albert home sick.

Race slid into his seat, pulling out his math workbook. Part of him started to relax as he began the warm-up, falling into an ease as he worked through the problems. Math was simple- the one thing he could seem to grasp. The patterns were easy and recognizable, making the work more enjoyable as he reveled in the familiarity. 

As he settled into his element, his worries seemed to lift a fraction. Finally, something he could handle.

XXX

The moment the final bell rang, Race was out of his seat, racing down the hallway towards the cafeteria. Spot was already there when he arrived, a cigarette dangling idly between his teeth. He pulled out the box when Race sauntered up, silently offering a smoke. Race took one, humming his thanks as he fished through his jacket pocket for his lighter, instantly sparking the flame and lifting his cigarette to his lips.

He allowed the smoke to drain the rest of the tension from his shoulders, clearing the haze out of his brain. He sighed contentedly, fixing Spot with an easy smile. 

Spot raised his eyebrows curiously, seemingly noting that something was off, “Tough day?”

Race scoffed, taking another drag of his cigarette, “Nothin’ too bad, jus’ stupid.”

Spot grunted, falling into step with Race as they began to walk towards the exit, “Anythin’ particular happen?”

Race shrugged, “M’ failin’ writin’ and Denton wants ta ‘speak to a guardian’.” He put air quotes around Denton’s words, tone dripping with sarcasm, “And I don’t think Jack’ll be too thrilled with me about that.”

Spot scrunched his nose, shoving a hand in his pocket, “Yeah, that’s stupid.”

“Ain’t it?”

They fell into silence, basking in the warmth of the Spring sun as they crossed behind the school. When they neared the road split indicating the separate routes towards the East and West sides, Spot froze, looking apprehensive.

“You gonna go home?” Race asked, eyeing Spot’s tense posture.

“I think I hafta,” Spot mumbled, glaring down the road towards his street, “Kinda left Sophia on her own last night. Not that mom would ever beat up on her, just- yeah, was kinda shitty of me.”

“Ya sure?” Race ghosted his fingers over Spot’s forearm, tempting his attention, “Kid can take care of herself. If you’re not ready ta head back yet, you can come over for another evenin’.”

“I dunno,” Spot said, blowing out a frustrated breath, “I-”

“Racer! Conlon!” 

They both looked to the side to see Smalls, one of Race’s best friends, approaching them. Albert’s best friend, Crutchie was following a few feet behind, a bundle of papers in hand.

“Hi, Smalls,” Race said, putting an easy smile on his face.

Smalls smiled back, making room for Crutchie in the little circle they’d formed as he caught up.

“Hey, Crutch,” Race greeted, “Albert’s not here today, but-”

“Oh, I know,” Crutchie said, holding up the bundle of papers, “I was jus’ lookin’ for you so I could give ya his schoolwork. I figured you’d forget to get to grab it.”

Race let out a surprised laugh, taking Albert’s work from Crutchie and slipping it into his backpack, “I did forget, thank ya.”

“‘Course,” Crutchie said, leaning onto his crutch a little more as he adjusted his backpack on his back, “Well..” he looked at the three older teens, shifting awkwardly for a moment before saluting, “I’m off. Bye guys, tell Al I say hi.”

“Will do,” Race agreed, watching as he started towards the East Side.

“Funny kid,” Smalls said thoughtfully.

“Al seems to attract them,” Race said, finally turning back to the other two, “but he’s got a good heart. Alla ‘em do.”

“For sure,” Spot said.

“Mmm,” Smalls hummed, before snapping, seemingly remembering why she’d called out to them, “Oh yeah, do you two wanna come down to the creek and swim a bit? Celebrate this sunny weather?”

Spot opened his mouth, looking unsure, but Race cut him off, “Yeah, sure.”

Spot shot him a look, “Race, Jack said-”

“What Jack don’t know won’t kill ‘im,” Race said firmly, sending Spot a challenging look.

Spot held eye contact with him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. 

Then, he sighed, “I can’t come,” he said, “I should get home to Sophia,” he lingered for a moment longer, looking like he wanted to say something else to Race, but he seemed to decide against it as he ran a hand down his face, “Jus’, be careful.” He hoisted his backpack higher onto his shoulder, walking towards the West Side.

Race watched his figure disappear down the sidewalk, feeling slightly shell-shocked. Annoyance began to spark in his gut. What was Spot’s problem? He’d never blatantly acted so disapproving of Race’s decisions. Sure, things had been especially hectic lately, but that hadn’t stopped him before. 

“Well,” Smalls said, rocking uncomfortably on her heels, “Do ya still wanna go?”

Race ground his teeth, irritation still twisting his stomach, “Yeah.” He said distractedly, “let’s go.”

They ventured away from the school, walking a few blocks into the East Side, before turning down a side path into The Woods. Race felt the tension in his shoulders ease up slightly as they walked through the underbrush. He smiled to himself, looking around fondly as they trekked deeper into the cluster of trees. The Woods was the hub for adventure amongst the Greasers. The younger kids spent hours a day running through the thicket, playing war and climbing trees, testing their limits. During the warm months, nearly everyone veered towards the creek that ran through the middle of the forest. It was fairly big, surrounded by large trees that hung low over the water, providing vantage points for jumping in. It was a comforting environment, safe and secluded from the real world. 

Smalls broke away from the worn path, bounding down a small hill towards the creek. Race followed closely behind, mirroring her movements as she sat down on a log, pulling off her tennis shoes and socks. She stood up, pulling off her cardigan and slipping off her skirt, tucking her camisole into the cotton shorts she wore underneath her skirt. Race stood as well, kicking off his jeans and jacket. He silently thanked god that he’d decided to wear his good boxers that day, adjusting them hastily before peeling off his shirt. He scrunched his nose, tracing his thumb over the scar on his abdomen instinctively before shaking his head, noting Smalls’ uneasy expression. He waved her off, busying himself in gathering up his clothes. The two of them folded their clothes into neat piles, setting them carefully on top of their shoes. 

Smalls put her hands on her hips, staring the waterbank in thought for a moment before scrambling up into the tree closest to them. Race watched in mild amusement as she expertly maneuvered herself onto one of the branches that extended over the water. With a shout, she threw herself off of the branch, crossing her arms over her chest and shutting her eyes as she splashed into the water. 

A moment later, she bobbed back to the surface, giggling, “It’s sooo cold!” She shrieked.

Race laughed, excitement fueling his limbs as he climbed onto the branch Smalls had previously occupied. 

“Move outta the way!” He called, waiting until Smalls was a good distance away from where he’d be landing before taking a bracing breath. 

Yelling out, he launched himself outward from the branch, spreading his arms to the side as he fell. For a liberating second, he flew, closing his eyes as the air rushed in his ears. His heart lifted as he hit the surface of the water, only just remembering to close his mouth as he was submerged. 

The water was crisp, cooling Race down to his bones. He opened his eyes, peering around the murky water as he sank lower. The muffled sound of drifting water echoed in his head, clearing his mind. He kicked towards the surface, eyes still bright and laughter bubbling in his chest.

He pushed his wet curls out of his eyes, turning to Smalls with a grin, “You’re right,” he called, swimming over to her, “It is cold. Refreshin’, though!”

“Yeah, very refreshin’,” Smalls said sarcastically, splashing some water at Race.

Race squawked indignantly, swerving away from her, “Oh, you are on!”

They splashed and swam for a few more minutes, basking in a small patch of sun between the trees once they’d tired out. Race stared through the trees towards the sky, feeling the warmth on his skin as they dried off. 

“Hey, uh,” Race looked sideways at Smalls, who was staring upwards with a quizzical look in her eyes, “Were you even supposed ta do this? What was Spot sayin’ about Jack-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Race said, “It don’t matter. I’ll jus’ tell him I had ta stay after or somethin’.”

“What’re you in trouble for?” Smalls asked, looking at him.

“Stupid shit,” Race mumbled, willing the guilt that began to eat at him to go away. 

_You go straight there and come straight back, ya hear? No side trips,_ Race grimaced as Jack’s words to him that morning came back to him. He understood fundamentally _why_ Jack was mad and didn’t want him going anywhere, but what did it matter if he was having fun? Swimming with Smalls was the most innocent thing he could do. What was wrong with having a good time? Nothing was wrong with it, and if Jack thought so, he didn’t need to know.

But the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. He had cost Jack, and subsequently Spot, a lot of money and all Jack was really doing was looking out for him. Like always. He was just trying to keep him out of trouble and Race made that hard on him as it was. And like Jack had said, one month of being grounded was generous, the least he could do was respect his wishes.

Whining a little, Race sat up, rubbing his eyes, “Mmm, I should go home,” he grumbled, voice muffled by his hands.

Smalls sat up, too, shrugging, “If ya want, we can leave.”

Race thought for another moment, then moved to slip back on his clothes, “Yeah, I wanna.”

“Mkay,” Smalls said easily, dressing back into her skirt and cardigan, bending down to carry her shoes.

They made their way out of The Woods, walking on bare feet through the East Side until they got to Smalls’ house. Race dropped her at her door, bidding her goodbye before traipsing down her front porch and in the direction of his house. 

As he neared it, his heart began to thud faster. Jack was going to see right through any lie he tried to tell. He always could. 

He froze in his tracks, spotting his house in the distance. The lights in the living room were on and Race bit his bottom lip, chewing apprehensively. He could picture a sick Albert bundled on the couch, book in hand while Jack made him a snack in the kitchen, no doubt preoccupied with where Race could be right now. 

Suddenly, the thought of going home was overwhelming. Maybe, he could put it off a _little_ longer. He backtracked, heading in the direction of the West Side. He didn’t entirely intend on going there, but anywhere else worth going was in that general area. 

He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching them into fists as he walked by a few older houses. He was about to break away down another route that would lead him towards town when loud shouts sounded behind him. 

Race turned slowly, immediately looking towards the baseball field where he could see two figures on the border between the field and The Woods. He squinted, realizing that one of the figures was on the ground, the other hovering a few inches over him. It looked like there was a struggle happening. 

Quietly, Race inched towards the field, ducking behind a tree when he got close enough to see the figures in detail. He immediately recognized the one on the ground to be Jojo De La Guerra, one of the Albert’s classmates. 

He was a scrawny kid with big eyes that often looked worn. His smile was infectious, but he rarely talked, only speaking when spoken to. It was common knowledge that his dad wasn’t the nicest, but no one really spoke about it. No one really spoke about anyone’s private issues. In the East Side, you just knew to let people into your home if they need.

“Jus’, lemme up! I didn’t take ya stupid money!” Jojo insisted, an unnerving panic in his tone.

The other figure growled, pressing his boot to Jojo’s chest, “Then why was my wallet in your jacket, you fuckin’ shit.”

“I don’t know!” Jojo pleaded, “Please, lemme up! Ya have ya wallet back anyway!”

The other figure stepped around to the other side of Jojo and Race felt his eyes widen. It was Sniper, one of the older Socs from the West Side. He was around Jack’s age with a strong build and hard features. He came from the streets of Boston several years back, having snagged enough money from several scandals in the city to earn him a higher social standing in Tulsa. Rumors about him varied, but Race didn’t put it above him to pull some serious shit.

“Yeah, butcha see,” Sniper snarled, bending down close to Jojo and reaching into the waistband of his jeans, extracting a gun, “Lessons needa be more than jus’ taught, they needa be learned.”

He pointed the gun at Jojo’s face, cocking the bullet into the chamber. 

Jojo squirmed, reaching up to cover his face with his hands, “No, please-”

The sound of the gun firing reached Race’s ears before he could even process what had happened. He heard himself gasp loudly, hands flying up to cover his mouth. Sniper’s head snapped up, spotting Race instantaneously.

He lifted his gun, shooting reflexively, but missing Race narrowly, instead hitting the tree trunk next to his head. Race let out a shout, looking at the tree trunk, then back to Sniper, who looked terrifyingly furious.

There was a moment where the world seemed to stop. Then, Race turned and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh race you shoulda just gone home  
> thanks for reading, chiefs  
> feedback is always appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> this was a just an introduction chapter. shit is gonna start going down real real soon, stay tuned.  
> thanks for reading, chiefs  
> feedback is always appreciated  
> tumblr: papesdontsellthemselves  
> Jack- 22  
> Race- 17  
> Spot- 17  
> Albert- 15


End file.
